A long and winding road
by sian22
Summary: A ring, blue and silver, delicate as a breath of air yet heavy with power and with promise, winds its way from Gil-galad, the Last High King, to his friend and herald Elrond on the eve of war. Entrusted to Erestor as royal Messenger what could possibly go wrong? A New Year's chainfic for LadyLindariel from the Ring Conspiracy. Chapter 2 by NirCele just up!
1. Chapter 1

_"_ _A journey of a thousand leagues begins with the first step"_

So Ereinion had been taught, so many steps, so many seasons past, in the springtime of his youth.

Hard and bitter experience down the many tear-filled years had not dispelled the truth from the important words. Sometimes one just had to start. And yet, now rolling the delicate, deceptively pretty looking ring upon his palm, he hesitated.

The great blue sapphire flashed. The high morning sun had broken through the grey, tufted clouds and showered down to kiss the grey stone of the hall. It leant an air of unreality to this point in time; as if Celebrimbor's greatest work was no more than a trinket he would gift on a day meant for picnics and music here by the banks of lazy Sirion.

The sunbeam rippled once again. Vilya sparkled, insistent and blue as the sky's deep vault. Could Manwe himself be impatient with his uncertainty?

 _I hear you Lord._ _I know._

The High-King rose from his carven throne and paced slowly down the dais.

He was alone. The call to arms had sounded and now all of Lindon would march to war. The rings he held in trust must go. To be safe from the dominion of the One, secure in others keeping. Narya he would entrust to Cirdan. His faithful lieutenant would remain far from the fray, from the fires of Orodruin. Vilya-the Ring of Air -must go to Elrond; to his brave Herald who would, he knew, come out unscathed. Who would have the power and the healing touch to use the ring for good.

The blue velvet pouch lay forlorn upon a table top. All that remained was to place the ring and his missive safe inside and hand them to Erestor. The Noldo stood patiently outside the hall, ready for his High King's command, anxious mount sidling from his touch. Another faithful heart he must send away.

Ai the pain of it. To give it up meant accepting one fork of fortune's fate. That he, and all he loved, could fail. Would fail.

Ereinion clenched his fingers once more around the ring and let slowly them go. Two half-moons of bright red blood welled up against his palm. Sharp fingernails had pierced: but he did not feel their sting.

Duty was yet sharper and more pressing

 _Enough_. Ereinion breathed deep. _Take the step._

There was no time and dangerous to delay. He grabbed the velvet sack, and before he could change his mind, thrust the precious thing inside. His boots struck hard and fast across the hallowed stone. The bright sunlight from the open doors made spots swim before his gaze.

The guards were already waiting. Four warriors, all that they could spare, to escort the Royal Messenger. Erestor bowed deep, tucked the bag into his jerkin and swung up into the saddle.

He nodded to the ellon's proud salute, heart nigh to bursting in his chest. "Na lû e-govaned vîn" Pray it would be this side the Sundering Seas.

In a cloud of dust that sent a myriad motes to shimmer before the fire-fruit of Laurelin, the retinue was gone. Ereinion turned back. To the too many plans and decisions for that day. To gird himself for what must come and the shadows that lay ahead. Wise and valiant, for all his Sight, the Last High King could never imagine the journey the ring would take.

* * *

Na lû e-govaned vîn: Until next we meet

Cover art by MellorianJ from Deviant Art

We the Ring Conspiracy hope you appreciate our humble contribution. Each chapter will be written by a different conspirator and updated in the coming days and weeks or more. :) Who knows where the Ring will go? We don't :)


	2. NirCele

They rode fast, but not hard. They didn't want to tire their horses on the long road ahead – after all, there were only five of them. The dust rode and fell in whispering clouds behind them, the hoof-prints of their mounts fading as they went on.

They had a long way to go, and not a minute could be wasted, so they stopped only twice during that first day, to give their mounts a rest and to snag a bite or two of refreshing food.

The urgency of their mission pressed them on – they all knew Erestor carried the important message in his breast pocket, though they might not have known what exactly it was. Erestor kept his lips pressed together thinly, speaking nothing but a few words of command occasionally.

It was past nightfall when they stopped, leaving the little-worn path and heading deep into the woods along the side until they were a far enough distance from the road. It might have been used less (and indeed, that was why they had chosen it), but it was better to be safe. An enemy might pass by – who knew, in these dark times?

Two of the guards took their mounts and stripped them of their light saddles, wiping them down and giving them small amounts of water, while the two others rolled into their bedrolls straightaway. Time was of the essence, and they would be woken in four hours' time for the others to rest. It was a pattern trained into them from their first joining of the guard, and they spared but a glance for the Royal Messenger they were escorting. He was brushing down his own horse, letting it whuffle at his back as he wiped the sweat from its flanks, and then he led it to the tiny stream trickling between the trees.

It lowered its head and gulped a few mouthfuls, then waited to drink more. It was a trained horse, and it knew what would happen if it drank too fast. Erestor stood by its side until it was done, then splashed a little water on his face and let the stallion go to join the other mounts standing drowsily next to the small arranged pile of saddles and bags.

He looked around, noting the two warriors already fast asleep, and the two that were then barely visible in the trees, their eyes alert for any sound or whisper of motion.

Raising a hand to feel the soft protrusion in his pocket, Erestor furrowed his brows. He could feel the thing inside trembling – not a physical sort of movement, but it tugged at his mind. He rested his fingertips upon the circular band, stopping when he hit the large lump gathered at one end. Parchment crackled beneath it, the missive bending under pressure, and Erestor dropped his hand away.

Even if he didn't know what precious thing lay inside, it wasn't his business to know. He would deliver it, and his mission would be complete. (He knew he wasn't going to be able to make it back to his King with the war starting now, but he wouldn't think about that.)

He was the only one that knew about his other assignment – to stay with the young Herald he was to give the pouch, answer any queries he may have, and remain with him until further instructed.

Letting out a breath, Erestor curled his fingers in both hands and then relaxed them. He grabbed his own bedroll and rolled it out, loosening his tight topknot before curling into the bedroll. He would take the second watch with the other two – another set of eyes wouldn't hurt.

But for now, he would sleep...rest until tomorrow, when they would ride again and press toward their destination.

Falling asleep almost immediately, Erestor cast his mind ahead of them on the path they would take.

What he saw troubled him, but he wouldn't remember it when he woke.


End file.
